It's about time I returned to this here blog. Forgive me, whoever is out there in cyber world, for not keeping my promises.
However, regardless of my lack of blogging about the books I've been reading, I do feel pretty dang accomplished. I mean, like, I-should-win-a-medal accomplished. Why?
Because I read Moby-Dick. All of it.
Moby-Dick is by far the biggest book I've read (I think Ulysses is somewhere around there in page length, but who am I kidding, I didn't actually "read" it). It was by far the most challenging book I've ever read, too. I dare say it perhaps was the most rewarding as well.
I had heard so many things about Moby-Dick, especially about its significance. And that's why it intrigued me. But for some reason, out of no where, I woke up one day and decided I would do it. I would read the whole thing and return to the very purpose of this blog: figure out why it's such a classic.
Thank goodness the library allowed me to renew it!
Throughout the whole book, I was troubled by a few things. One, mostly I was troubled by the narrator. The infamous first line, "Call me Ishmael," sets the stage that this is a first-person narrator and that Ishmael will be the means whereby the story of Captain Ahab and Moby Dick are told. Usually, this character-narrator is an interesting choice for me, but it can be dangerous, as the narrator can become flat and not go through any sort of change – not exist for any other reason than to tell the story that they are not wholly apart of (i.e., Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby). Then, as the story (or rather long description of whaling) progressed, I noticed the narrator was no longer Ishmael but this disembodied, all-knowing, all-hearing being – the narrator knew the thoughts of the crew, recounted scenes where it would have been impossible for Ishmael to be apart of, and simply went places Ishmael would not be able to go. This, Herman Melville, would have gotten you bad marks in any fiction workshop.
It wasn't until I read the introduction to the book (which, by the way, take my advice and never read an introduction before you read the book. It will invariably ruin it for you. I'm so glad I waited until the end for this one) that I heard another perspective on this very frustration. The writer of the introduction argued there are two distinct narrators, and the "strange brilliance" of the novel is that it weaves in and out of them so seamlessly – that the choice of having the limited-perspective first-person Ishmael narrator and the omniscient, disembodied narrator at the same time is part of what made this a masterpiece. After reading that, my mind opened a bit, and every negative thing I felt about the book almost evaporated.
Oh, but then there were a bajillion pages on the color of the White Whale and what exactly the skeletal structure of the Sperm Whale was like and how pictures of whales tended to be back in the day, so maybe not everything negative. I understand Melville's reason for this – the addition of real-life whaling facts and figures gave significance to the rest of the story, so that we as readers would buy everything else. Because if he can get as authentic as how wrinkly the forehead of the whale is, surely we can buy some of the other crazy stuff that happens.
Which leads me to the tale's resolution. I loved the ending, and I especially loved the imagery of the coffin in the sea as a life-buoy. Absolutely splendid, and one of those images I'd probably get tattooed on my body if I were the tattooing type. And gratifying, too, the ending – how even though I didn't exactly know what to expect, I felt fulfilled. Like this was supposed to happen.
I am being vague on purpose. If you have an inkling, even a small curiosity, please, read this book. You will at times wish you were reading something else, and you will at times be so engrossed in it, you'll forget about Facebook and all the other pointless stuff out there. There will be times you don't understand what's going on, but keep pressing forward, because you have to go there, too. You have to go with the crew of the Pequod and hunt whales and become so obsessed with something that all you think about is your very own White Whale.
Now that I've done it, I feel like I can read anything. And although that might not be the mark of a "classic" novel, it certainly means it's a classic for me.
P.S. Did you know Herman Melville, due to his lack of success as an author (critics didn't like him very much), gave up writing and became a customs inspector for 18 years? Yes, ladies and gentleman, the man who wrote Moby-Dick faced rejection. Hang in there. Your time will come someday.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Thursday, May 3, 2012
In my young and more vulnerable years...
I'm just gonna go ahead and kill two birds with this blog post today. I figured, it needs to get going, and at this rate, it takes me weeks after finishing a book to blog about it. I actually don't even really know what I'm going to say about these works... I'm just hoping something will spew out.
I've been done with Huck Fin for, gosh, a few months now. I just finished The Great Gatsby last week, so luckily that is fresh in my mind (although reviewing it might be tough... keep reading). Hopefully I can talk about these in tandem. I think I can. Yeah, I'm just gonna do it.
First, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
by Mark Twain
Quick synopsis: A young boy named Huckleberry Finn fakes his own death to escape his abusive father, and he comes into contact with Jim, a slave who is escaping because he overheard he will be sold downriver. Together they raft down the Mississippi river, getting into all kinds of mischievous and adventurous experiences.
This book is difficult to read. I can't imagine twelve year olds reading it. I know it's true to the way it was back then, and this book is actually an argument against the enslavement of Blacks in the late 19th century, but it's still laborious. The use of the dialect became distracting for me, which is probably the paramount reason why it took me some seven weeks to finish it.
Don't get me wrong. Huck is charming, Jim is lovable, and the fits they find themselves in are entertaining. It's a true journey story, and the spirit of the novel is ripe and resounding. I understand why Twain wrote it the way he did -- form follows function. One certainly could not write a book about this region with this main character and not be true to its every form. So I commend, wholeheartedly, his painstaking effort. I've just learned it's not my taste.
Regardless, though, how 'not fun' it was for me to read, this goes back to what I've been saying about all l these other books, and I think I'm finally catching on: this book says something. It is and has been intensely controversial. Some argue that it attacks racism; others argue that Twain is simply playing into and does not rise above the stereotypes of black people that white people have. Whatever the case may be, and whatever one might think, there is no getting around the conversation it stirs. It gets us talking about race and what that means, and even though it is at times gritty and ugly, it's more important to talk about than to not.
According to Wikipedia, Twain wrote this for adults, and he was appalled when people considered it a children's story. Huckleberry Finn, then, is a tool used to ignite conversation and controversy, to mess up the status quo -- and when literature can do it for more than a hundred years, yeah, I have no doubt calling that a classic.
Second, The Great Gatsby
by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Quick synopsis: Nick Carraway, an ex army solider who moved to the West Egg area of New York to sell bonds, lives next door to Jay Gatsby, perhaps the most lavish and popular man of the town. Through befriending him, he reunites long lost lovers Jay and his cousin, Daisy, amidst tumultuous repercussions.
One of my favorite movies is Midnight in Paris. The main character finds himself, at the stroke of midnight in Paris, amongst famous writers and artists of the 20s--Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Picasso, to name a few. On the first time of this occurrence, when Gil (the main character) doesn't quite yet know what is going on, he runs into someone whom he later finds out is "Scott Fitzgerald." I remember getting chills at that moment when they met because I knew Gil was in the presence of brilliance. Had I read any of Fitzgerlad's work? No! But he's F. Scott Fitzgerald! He wrote The Great Gatsby -- it's a classic!
My take on The Great Gatsby is this: it's a great novel. It's written well, it touches on some really deep themes of love, desire, truth, and even jealousy. It's a quick read. It's got great characterization. It's just... good.
I find it interesting the main character is merely the observer of it all, though. Nick Carraway doesn't go through any conflict. Doesn't have a desire that, before it may or may not be achieved, must be burdened with obstacles. He doesn't go through a change at the end. He is just merely there, the narrator of it all, watching as the world passes him by. The characters he interacts with, i.e. Gatsby, Tom and Daisy Buchanan, George and Myrtle Wilson -- these people are the ones this story is about. I imagine Fitzgerald chose the narration this way to ensure an outsider's perspective, so the readers could see it the way perhaps every single person at Gatsby's parties may perceive him and the others. I don't know. Is it effective? Sure. Is it what I would have done? I'm not sure.
I keep on saying that all of these classics say something about society, and that it gets people talking. Yet when I think about The Great Gatsby, I can't think of what the larger message is. To me, it seems like just another novel, albeit it a very good one, but not one that deserves classic status (The Modern Library named it the second best English-language novel of the 20th century).
WHY?
I'm stumped. Is it a cautionary tale? Cautioning us to... what? Not give in to jealousy? Don't let your long-lost and very flighty lover take the wheel after a huge blow out fight with her husband? Just go find her instead of waiting around for years, hoping the one you'd lost stop by? The people who you think adore you actually don't? What is it about this novel that stands the test of time and is relatable for high schoolers to be reading today?
If anyone's got any thoughts on the matter, it's much appreciated. Maybe I'm just burnt out.
But I'm not done yet. I'm making headway. I started this project last year, almost to the day, and it's depressing how long it's taken me to get through it. But I am comforted by the fact that the delay has been not because I'm not reading but because I am reading -- just everything else that's not on this list.
I've been done with Huck Fin for, gosh, a few months now. I just finished The Great Gatsby last week, so luckily that is fresh in my mind (although reviewing it might be tough... keep reading). Hopefully I can talk about these in tandem. I think I can. Yeah, I'm just gonna do it.
First, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
by Mark Twain
Quick synopsis: A young boy named Huckleberry Finn fakes his own death to escape his abusive father, and he comes into contact with Jim, a slave who is escaping because he overheard he will be sold downriver. Together they raft down the Mississippi river, getting into all kinds of mischievous and adventurous experiences.
This book is difficult to read. I can't imagine twelve year olds reading it. I know it's true to the way it was back then, and this book is actually an argument against the enslavement of Blacks in the late 19th century, but it's still laborious. The use of the dialect became distracting for me, which is probably the paramount reason why it took me some seven weeks to finish it.
Don't get me wrong. Huck is charming, Jim is lovable, and the fits they find themselves in are entertaining. It's a true journey story, and the spirit of the novel is ripe and resounding. I understand why Twain wrote it the way he did -- form follows function. One certainly could not write a book about this region with this main character and not be true to its every form. So I commend, wholeheartedly, his painstaking effort. I've just learned it's not my taste.
Regardless, though, how 'not fun' it was for me to read, this goes back to what I've been saying about all l these other books, and I think I'm finally catching on: this book says something. It is and has been intensely controversial. Some argue that it attacks racism; others argue that Twain is simply playing into and does not rise above the stereotypes of black people that white people have. Whatever the case may be, and whatever one might think, there is no getting around the conversation it stirs. It gets us talking about race and what that means, and even though it is at times gritty and ugly, it's more important to talk about than to not.
According to Wikipedia, Twain wrote this for adults, and he was appalled when people considered it a children's story. Huckleberry Finn, then, is a tool used to ignite conversation and controversy, to mess up the status quo -- and when literature can do it for more than a hundred years, yeah, I have no doubt calling that a classic.
Second, The Great Gatsby
by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Quick synopsis: Nick Carraway, an ex army solider who moved to the West Egg area of New York to sell bonds, lives next door to Jay Gatsby, perhaps the most lavish and popular man of the town. Through befriending him, he reunites long lost lovers Jay and his cousin, Daisy, amidst tumultuous repercussions.
One of my favorite movies is Midnight in Paris. The main character finds himself, at the stroke of midnight in Paris, amongst famous writers and artists of the 20s--Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Picasso, to name a few. On the first time of this occurrence, when Gil (the main character) doesn't quite yet know what is going on, he runs into someone whom he later finds out is "Scott Fitzgerald." I remember getting chills at that moment when they met because I knew Gil was in the presence of brilliance. Had I read any of Fitzgerlad's work? No! But he's F. Scott Fitzgerald! He wrote The Great Gatsby -- it's a classic!
My take on The Great Gatsby is this: it's a great novel. It's written well, it touches on some really deep themes of love, desire, truth, and even jealousy. It's a quick read. It's got great characterization. It's just... good.
I find it interesting the main character is merely the observer of it all, though. Nick Carraway doesn't go through any conflict. Doesn't have a desire that, before it may or may not be achieved, must be burdened with obstacles. He doesn't go through a change at the end. He is just merely there, the narrator of it all, watching as the world passes him by. The characters he interacts with, i.e. Gatsby, Tom and Daisy Buchanan, George and Myrtle Wilson -- these people are the ones this story is about. I imagine Fitzgerald chose the narration this way to ensure an outsider's perspective, so the readers could see it the way perhaps every single person at Gatsby's parties may perceive him and the others. I don't know. Is it effective? Sure. Is it what I would have done? I'm not sure.
I keep on saying that all of these classics say something about society, and that it gets people talking. Yet when I think about The Great Gatsby, I can't think of what the larger message is. To me, it seems like just another novel, albeit it a very good one, but not one that deserves classic status (The Modern Library named it the second best English-language novel of the 20th century).
WHY?
I'm stumped. Is it a cautionary tale? Cautioning us to... what? Not give in to jealousy? Don't let your long-lost and very flighty lover take the wheel after a huge blow out fight with her husband? Just go find her instead of waiting around for years, hoping the one you'd lost stop by? The people who you think adore you actually don't? What is it about this novel that stands the test of time and is relatable for high schoolers to be reading today?
If anyone's got any thoughts on the matter, it's much appreciated. Maybe I'm just burnt out.
But I'm not done yet. I'm making headway. I started this project last year, almost to the day, and it's depressing how long it's taken me to get through it. But I am comforted by the fact that the delay has been not because I'm not reading but because I am reading -- just everything else that's not on this list.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
It was love at first sight
Catch-22
by Joseph Heller
Quick synopsis: A third-person omniscient narrator recounts the events of the many characters and events in the fictional U.S. Airforce's 256th Squadron based on the island Pianosa in the Mediterranean Sea. The main character, Captain John Yossarian, deals with anxieties and rebellion against the military.
Phew, it's been a while since I've finished this book. I believe I finished it last... August. Or September. Remember how I was going to blog about it soon? Well, this is soon... ish. Relatively speaking.
I love this book. It is messy, complicated, giant -- but it is full of quick wit, perfect irony, call-back jokes and references that you've forgotten and when they sneak up on you, you feel like you're stepping out into the sun after being inside a cold house all day. It is political, it is personal, it is powerful. It's not for everyone, but it certainly is a book I will read and read and read for the rest of my life.
I guess I liked it so much because of the freedom for the (disembodied) narrator. It's third person omniscient, so that gives the narrator to do whatever the heck he/she wants. We are able to go into multiple people's perspectives and minds, and we're able to get to know them in ways that wouldn't be possible with a limited point of view. And yes, there are tons of characters -- so many I now can't even discern who's who without some Wikipedia help or a flow chart (if only I had made one, which I should have, but I guess I just didn't want to ruin the 'flow' of the reading). Like I said, complicated, but beautiful.
But it's not complicated for the sake of being complicated. Heller wanted to capture the experience of being in a war, of being with men you don't like and men you do and men who die and men who escape and men who are your brothers and men who are your superiors. It wouldn't be right if there were only a handful of main characters a few other flat ones off to the side. It wouldn't represent real life.
This book is also intricate. It's weaved together in such a way that keeps on surprising you. The plot isn't linear, which I love, and this allows for character development so that, once their crises happens, you feel for them, you know them, you don't want whatever is happening them to happen to them. Attached, clearly, I am to these characters.
As for what it has done for literature and why it's considered a classic: I don't have a straight answer. I know that this book received very polarized reviews when it first came out -- the New York Times said it sounded like it was shouted onto the page rather than written. I gave it to my dad, who was a navigator and flew in the USAF back in the day, so I figured he'd like it, and I think he did... for the most part. I think there are some things that bothered him, perhaps the rebellious nature of Yossarian, or the complexity of the arrangement of the plot, but in the end he said it was okay. But one of my English teachers (the one who assigned 32 books last semester) said it is one of her all time favorite books and she reads it every year "just to keep sane." Ironic, since the book heavily deals with insanity, and there is a point in which every reader, I believe, feels insane amidst its pages.
Regardless of the critic's thoughts or reviews or what people think about it, I do believe it, like 1984, brings up good discussions about our society, authority, our military, and what it means to have an assigned role, be it in a squadron in the military or in society in general. It may be uncomfortable for some because it pushes the boundaries of normal thought; it's an iconoclast that, in 1955, I don't think the casual reader was ready for it.
Will we ever have another Catch-22? Who knows, but I'm glad we at least have one.
by Joseph Heller
Quick synopsis: A third-person omniscient narrator recounts the events of the many characters and events in the fictional U.S. Airforce's 256th Squadron based on the island Pianosa in the Mediterranean Sea. The main character, Captain John Yossarian, deals with anxieties and rebellion against the military.
Phew, it's been a while since I've finished this book. I believe I finished it last... August. Or September. Remember how I was going to blog about it soon? Well, this is soon... ish. Relatively speaking.
I love this book. It is messy, complicated, giant -- but it is full of quick wit, perfect irony, call-back jokes and references that you've forgotten and when they sneak up on you, you feel like you're stepping out into the sun after being inside a cold house all day. It is political, it is personal, it is powerful. It's not for everyone, but it certainly is a book I will read and read and read for the rest of my life.
I guess I liked it so much because of the freedom for the (disembodied) narrator. It's third person omniscient, so that gives the narrator to do whatever the heck he/she wants. We are able to go into multiple people's perspectives and minds, and we're able to get to know them in ways that wouldn't be possible with a limited point of view. And yes, there are tons of characters -- so many I now can't even discern who's who without some Wikipedia help or a flow chart (if only I had made one, which I should have, but I guess I just didn't want to ruin the 'flow' of the reading). Like I said, complicated, but beautiful.
But it's not complicated for the sake of being complicated. Heller wanted to capture the experience of being in a war, of being with men you don't like and men you do and men who die and men who escape and men who are your brothers and men who are your superiors. It wouldn't be right if there were only a handful of main characters a few other flat ones off to the side. It wouldn't represent real life.
This book is also intricate. It's weaved together in such a way that keeps on surprising you. The plot isn't linear, which I love, and this allows for character development so that, once their crises happens, you feel for them, you know them, you don't want whatever is happening them to happen to them. Attached, clearly, I am to these characters.
As for what it has done for literature and why it's considered a classic: I don't have a straight answer. I know that this book received very polarized reviews when it first came out -- the New York Times said it sounded like it was shouted onto the page rather than written. I gave it to my dad, who was a navigator and flew in the USAF back in the day, so I figured he'd like it, and I think he did... for the most part. I think there are some things that bothered him, perhaps the rebellious nature of Yossarian, or the complexity of the arrangement of the plot, but in the end he said it was okay. But one of my English teachers (the one who assigned 32 books last semester) said it is one of her all time favorite books and she reads it every year "just to keep sane." Ironic, since the book heavily deals with insanity, and there is a point in which every reader, I believe, feels insane amidst its pages.
Regardless of the critic's thoughts or reviews or what people think about it, I do believe it, like 1984, brings up good discussions about our society, authority, our military, and what it means to have an assigned role, be it in a squadron in the military or in society in general. It may be uncomfortable for some because it pushes the boundaries of normal thought; it's an iconoclast that, in 1955, I don't think the casual reader was ready for it.
Will we ever have another Catch-22? Who knows, but I'm glad we at least have one.
Monday, January 9, 2012
It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.
Hi, blog, nice to see you like, what, five months later? Yeah, I know. It's been a long time, but! I have been reading a lot in those five months! Just nothing that's on my speculate list. It's been hard to keep up with this project AND go to school at the same time--for instance, I had a class that assigned 32 books. 32! We didn't end up reading them all, but it was roughly two books a week. When I found time to read, I felt guilty for reading something that wasn't required, and thus, five months later here I am.
I actually read Catch-22 right before the semester started, and I'm still surprised at my colossal laziness at not blogging about it. I freakin' loved it. I mean, I loved it. I should have written about it the minute I closed it, when it was still fresh and honeymooney. Maybe I'll post it after this one, once I get Nineteen Eighty Four out of the way. And, without further ado: Nineteen Eighty Four!
Nineteen Eighty Four (Or is it 1984? Just don't be confused with "the greatest album of all time," said to me by my husband every time I mention its name).
by George Orwell
Quick synopsis: Oceania is a society that is run by the Party, a Big Brother, socialistic, totalitarian government that oppresses and completely controls its inhabitants. Winston Smith tries to rebel against it, but... well, if I were to tell you what happens, you wouldn't need to read it, now would you.
Alright, so. 1984. It's one of those novels that's "out there" for me--it's based on ideas, concepts, theories, what-ifs. It's futuristic, one that requires abstract thinking and feeling. And while I'm not opposed to this style of storytelling (heck, I loved Farenheit 451, and I'm generally open to the idea of science-fiction), I found the story of 1984 to be bland, unconvincing, and mostly over the top. In fact, this book enraged me.
I guess I just don't care for political agendas disguised as stories.
I didn't find sympathy in the characters; I didn't care for them one bit. I didn't find the "love" between Winston and Julia believable. I couldn't understand the motivations behind Wintson's actions, nor did I understand the purpose of the Party as a whole. Sure, they're Big Brother--thought control and socialism and all that. But what's beneath that? Why are they like this, and how did it get like this?
Maybe I missed all of these things. Maybe my skimming got the best of me. But I don't think so. I attribute my negative feelings toward the novel to Orwell's writing. He's been known for saying "avoid using similes and metaphors," and I certainly can see he sticks to his guns. The writing is drab, void of anything glowing or heart-stopping; it's brute, pale, and something I'd see from a high schooler. If the writing were more poetic--if there were more use of imagery, both the lyrical and narrative voices, if it constructed language in a way that I'd never heard before, maybe then I'd feel convinced of its decisions. Maybe then I'd get behind Winston and Julia's romp, maybe then I'd feel the "love" they feel for one another and maybe then I could immerse myself in Ingsoc and the Party, and maybe then I could truly feel what it was like to live in a place like Oceania.
Come to think of it--maybe that was the whole purpose of the stale style. Maybe I wasn't supposed to feel anything because the members of this society don't feel anything? Certainly that could be an argument. But when Winston has a desire to rebel (and what this desire is founded upon, I'm not too sure--sure, the injustice to his parents and sister, but--where do I see that?!), that means he feels something, and as a reader, I want to feel what he feels. That's one of the reasons why I read!
If any of you can argue this point, please, by all means. I welcome it. I want to like these books. I want to say, yeah, that is one of the greatest books of all time, and here's why. But right now, I can't. Maybe I judged it too quickly and my bias was never pushed aside. Maybe I was too distracted each time I read it. Maybe I need to read it again in a few years and then I'll be ready for it. Who knows.
I will say this, however. I did come upon somewhat of an epiphany as I was reading it. I mentioned earlier that I'm not too fond of books that are written solely for the intention of a political agenda. Sure, I like politics (somewhat), and to a certain extent I find them interesting--but when it's masked as a story, when I feel the author's voice coming through as his "characters," when his characters are thinly veiled versions of what he's both for and against, I feel cheapened, and I'm not buying it.
With that said, I do think this political and social charge is why this book is regarded as canonical. This book, regardless of its writing style or not, says something. It says something about society, or what society could be if it doesn't change its ways. It says something about humanity, how ugly it can be, how lifeless it can become if it's overruled by power. It reminds us to be curious, to remember, to live, to exist, to discover, to evolve, to rebel and be the pioneer you think you are to change you want to see. It deals with opposites, and in that, I felt a yearning for the things that this society is deprived of (in fact, this was the only feeling I felt while reading it). Privacy! Fun! True love! True memories! Significance! Independence! Good literature reminds us what life is all about, and weirdly, through this book's deprivations, I'm reminded exactly.
And that's what I'll tell people when (if) they ask why this book is regarded so highly. I'll put aside the rage I feel for its lack of beautiful writing and its lack of sympathetic characters and discuss what makes it so remarkable: it's because of what they feel when they realize the comforts of their lives and their society are no longer an option. Even those who may think their country is already in a fallen state and could not get any worse would feel pleasure and a strong sense of gratitude that it is nothing like Oceania. 1984 will always be relevant and will always live on, metaphors or not.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Robert Cohn was once the middleweight boxing champion of Princeton
The Sun Also Rises
by Ernest Hemingway
Quick synopsis: A group of American and British expatriates travel through Paris and Spain, where they fish, drink, eat at cafes, and attend the fiestas of the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona.
My first Hemingway novel. I never thought I'd make it through, but somehow, someway, I did.
I remember reading The Snows of Kilimanjaro in my English class a few semesters ago and being mesmerized by it. It was so strong, so heartfelt, so... sentimental. The prose was thick and vivid, the characterizations so fierce, the word usage so perfect. I may not remember much about the plot itself, but I do remember being really impressed.
I guess I expected the same thing with The Sun Also Rises. And because this is not a book club and I promised myself I would speculate why people are so taken by this classic, I cannot sit here and write about how bored I was reading it, or how pithy it sounded, or that I missed seeing and feeling the scenes and the emotions of each character.
I will admit, though, that by the end, my vexation was relieved somewhat--I am now not so turned off to the idea of reading another Hemingway novel. In fact, I welcome it, and I hope I do it someday so I can compare it to his first. Because, after all, he got me on a short story--maybe it was just this novel that didn't necessarily float my boat.
If anything, Hemingway is a master at his own technique: this idea that stories are related to icebergs, and that 7/8ths of it is underwater. We don't see it, but we know it's there. And it's true. In very simple terms and in very simple means, I understood the (somewhat) the emotional conflict between Jake, the narrator, and Brett, the flighty woman every man falls in love with. It became so apparent to me what was going on (most of the time), yet I was shocked at how little there was. Hemingway at his best.
I did miss something that was very important, in my opinion, that I didn't realize until I read some reviews and articles on the book. Jake Barnes is impotent from a wound he got in the war, and that is why he cannot be with Brett. She, being sexually needy, cannot be with a man who cannot satisfy her, and that is why their relationship would never work. Somehow, I didn't catch this factoid, and I just figured she could never be with him because she just couldn't settle down with one man. Was this something I missed because I skimmed? Because I would go days without opening the book, thus becoming disoriented at starting again? Or did I miss it because it wasn't actually said in plain text? I don't know. Unfortunately, I can't go back in time and re-experience reading it.
The book became magical for me during the intense scenes of the bull-fighting. Maybe because it was the most descriptive, and that is what I craved. Maybe because it I understood the characters more and their place in the novel and in the world, and they weren't just names (which, I will say, I felt like they were up until this point). Maybe because, I don't know, I forgot I was reading and was fully invested in this dream, fully participating in these scenes.
I do appreciate what Hemingway did for literature, becoming a pioneer of the modern style, making the simple and seemingly trite perhaps more complicated than it looks and sounds. And no matter my opinion on the man and his work, it means really nothing when compared to what he has done for authors and readers alike, even if I may not be quite there. In the end, I wasn't as annoyed with The Sun Also Rises as I was when I first began, and I hope that one day I can give it another read and become absolutely mystified.
by Ernest Hemingway
Quick synopsis: A group of American and British expatriates travel through Paris and Spain, where they fish, drink, eat at cafes, and attend the fiestas of the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona.
My first Hemingway novel. I never thought I'd make it through, but somehow, someway, I did.
I remember reading The Snows of Kilimanjaro in my English class a few semesters ago and being mesmerized by it. It was so strong, so heartfelt, so... sentimental. The prose was thick and vivid, the characterizations so fierce, the word usage so perfect. I may not remember much about the plot itself, but I do remember being really impressed.
I guess I expected the same thing with The Sun Also Rises. And because this is not a book club and I promised myself I would speculate why people are so taken by this classic, I cannot sit here and write about how bored I was reading it, or how pithy it sounded, or that I missed seeing and feeling the scenes and the emotions of each character.
I will admit, though, that by the end, my vexation was relieved somewhat--I am now not so turned off to the idea of reading another Hemingway novel. In fact, I welcome it, and I hope I do it someday so I can compare it to his first. Because, after all, he got me on a short story--maybe it was just this novel that didn't necessarily float my boat.
If anything, Hemingway is a master at his own technique: this idea that stories are related to icebergs, and that 7/8ths of it is underwater. We don't see it, but we know it's there. And it's true. In very simple terms and in very simple means, I understood the (somewhat) the emotional conflict between Jake, the narrator, and Brett, the flighty woman every man falls in love with. It became so apparent to me what was going on (most of the time), yet I was shocked at how little there was. Hemingway at his best.
I did miss something that was very important, in my opinion, that I didn't realize until I read some reviews and articles on the book. Jake Barnes is impotent from a wound he got in the war, and that is why he cannot be with Brett. She, being sexually needy, cannot be with a man who cannot satisfy her, and that is why their relationship would never work. Somehow, I didn't catch this factoid, and I just figured she could never be with him because she just couldn't settle down with one man. Was this something I missed because I skimmed? Because I would go days without opening the book, thus becoming disoriented at starting again? Or did I miss it because it wasn't actually said in plain text? I don't know. Unfortunately, I can't go back in time and re-experience reading it.
The book became magical for me during the intense scenes of the bull-fighting. Maybe because it was the most descriptive, and that is what I craved. Maybe because it I understood the characters more and their place in the novel and in the world, and they weren't just names (which, I will say, I felt like they were up until this point). Maybe because, I don't know, I forgot I was reading and was fully invested in this dream, fully participating in these scenes.
I do appreciate what Hemingway did for literature, becoming a pioneer of the modern style, making the simple and seemingly trite perhaps more complicated than it looks and sounds. And no matter my opinion on the man and his work, it means really nothing when compared to what he has done for authors and readers alike, even if I may not be quite there. In the end, I wasn't as annoyed with The Sun Also Rises as I was when I first began, and I hope that one day I can give it another read and become absolutely mystified.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
When he was only thirteen...
I don't know how many people read this blog. I realize it isn't for everyone, especially the casual blog reader. However, for those who have been reading it (or at least know about it and its routine), I should apologize for being so incredibly late on updating.
Unfortunately, with my new job, my life has become a whirlwind, and I no longer have the luxury of waking up in the morning, reading for a few hours, doing whatever throughout my day, reading again for another hour, doing some more stuff, and then reading again before bedtime. Life is fast-paced, and I was jarred, utterly, with my new schedule of go, go, go. Because I wasn't prepared for it, I wasn't prepared to keep up my same rigorous reading schedule, and soon days would pass without the cover so much as being looked at. How depressing.
However! I resolved with myself that, if I can't keep up a book a week, I can at least keep reading, no matter how long it takes. Really, a book a week is quick, but I was able to do it because my time in school and work had reduced dramatically. Now that my schedule is not as laid back as it was, I can't spend nearly as much reading as I'd like to. I just can't. I don't know where in my day I could squeeze in a few hours. A half hour, yes, but hours on end?
All this to say: yes, I'm stil reading, and I'm still very much interested and curious and speculative. I just don't think I can finish this project in 15 weeks like I had hoped. And that's okay. What I'm doing with my time is worthwhile, and as long as I keep opening that book, it doesn't matter if it takes me years.
Okay, now that that's out of the way, let's talk about To Kill a Mockingbird!
To Kill a Mockingbird
by Harper Lee
Quick Synopsis: A young brother and sister, Jem and Scout, deal with their town's racial injustice as their father defends a black man on trial, and are mightily captivated by Boo Radley, a man that never leaves his house.
I had heard so much about this book but knew so little. I remember my friends reading it in high school. I knew the character Boo Radley, I knew it was about a black man raping a young white girl, and... that was about it. I actually thought Harper Lee was a man. Imagine my surprise and delight when I found out she's a woman. What an inspiration.
I love this book. I mean, I LOVE it. It is my favorite so far, and probably will be on my top three of all time. It was hard for me to not finish it in a week because I wanted to get through it so badly, but really, I'm glad I took my time with it. I was able to spend more time with the characters, I was able live in Maycomb just a little bit longer, I was able to become a kid again.
And that's the magic of this book: Lee captures the wonderment and curiosity and bewilderment of these children so well. Some critics have said that they didn't buy it because how could our first person narrator, a 7 year old, narrate a story with such clarity and precision, such force and lyricism? What the "critics" weren't realizing was that it wasn't narrated by a 7 year old. It was narrated by an old woman, a woman who has spent years pondering this time in her life and finally decided to tell this story, to figure it out and make sense of it all. Even with the huge temporal distance between the time-now narrator (the old woman) and the time-then narrator (Scout at 7 years old), the magic of her childhood was never lost. I see this world as the 7 year old sees it because that's how the narrator sees it--she doesn't see it as an old woman. Lee knew exactly what she was doing.
Not only was I drawn by the sheer beauty of the language, but the story is one I found myself truly caring about. Boo Radley, this enigmatic being, this thing that the children both fear and revere, isn't just something to give the kids something to do. He stands for something, and what got me was that I didn't know what it was right away. I had to get deeply involved in the other story, the story about the trial that their father, Atticus, was defending, to really understand the significance of Boo and his place in the world and in the story.
And that's why it's so good: everything connects back to each other. It all makes sense. And it's beautiful. I cried. I admit it, I had tears in my eyes when I finished it.
I won't go into too much further detail in case you haven't read it--and if you haven't, I HIGHLY suggest that you do.
Unfortunately, with my new job, my life has become a whirlwind, and I no longer have the luxury of waking up in the morning, reading for a few hours, doing whatever throughout my day, reading again for another hour, doing some more stuff, and then reading again before bedtime. Life is fast-paced, and I was jarred, utterly, with my new schedule of go, go, go. Because I wasn't prepared for it, I wasn't prepared to keep up my same rigorous reading schedule, and soon days would pass without the cover so much as being looked at. How depressing.
However! I resolved with myself that, if I can't keep up a book a week, I can at least keep reading, no matter how long it takes. Really, a book a week is quick, but I was able to do it because my time in school and work had reduced dramatically. Now that my schedule is not as laid back as it was, I can't spend nearly as much reading as I'd like to. I just can't. I don't know where in my day I could squeeze in a few hours. A half hour, yes, but hours on end?
All this to say: yes, I'm stil reading, and I'm still very much interested and curious and speculative. I just don't think I can finish this project in 15 weeks like I had hoped. And that's okay. What I'm doing with my time is worthwhile, and as long as I keep opening that book, it doesn't matter if it takes me years.
Okay, now that that's out of the way, let's talk about To Kill a Mockingbird!
To Kill a Mockingbird
by Harper Lee
Quick Synopsis: A young brother and sister, Jem and Scout, deal with their town's racial injustice as their father defends a black man on trial, and are mightily captivated by Boo Radley, a man that never leaves his house.
I had heard so much about this book but knew so little. I remember my friends reading it in high school. I knew the character Boo Radley, I knew it was about a black man raping a young white girl, and... that was about it. I actually thought Harper Lee was a man. Imagine my surprise and delight when I found out she's a woman. What an inspiration.
I love this book. I mean, I LOVE it. It is my favorite so far, and probably will be on my top three of all time. It was hard for me to not finish it in a week because I wanted to get through it so badly, but really, I'm glad I took my time with it. I was able to spend more time with the characters, I was able live in Maycomb just a little bit longer, I was able to become a kid again.
And that's the magic of this book: Lee captures the wonderment and curiosity and bewilderment of these children so well. Some critics have said that they didn't buy it because how could our first person narrator, a 7 year old, narrate a story with such clarity and precision, such force and lyricism? What the "critics" weren't realizing was that it wasn't narrated by a 7 year old. It was narrated by an old woman, a woman who has spent years pondering this time in her life and finally decided to tell this story, to figure it out and make sense of it all. Even with the huge temporal distance between the time-now narrator (the old woman) and the time-then narrator (Scout at 7 years old), the magic of her childhood was never lost. I see this world as the 7 year old sees it because that's how the narrator sees it--she doesn't see it as an old woman. Lee knew exactly what she was doing.
Not only was I drawn by the sheer beauty of the language, but the story is one I found myself truly caring about. Boo Radley, this enigmatic being, this thing that the children both fear and revere, isn't just something to give the kids something to do. He stands for something, and what got me was that I didn't know what it was right away. I had to get deeply involved in the other story, the story about the trial that their father, Atticus, was defending, to really understand the significance of Boo and his place in the world and in the story.
And that's why it's so good: everything connects back to each other. It all makes sense. And it's beautiful. I cried. I admit it, I had tears in my eyes when I finished it.
I won't go into too much further detail in case you haven't read it--and if you haven't, I HIGHLY suggest that you do.
Monday, June 6, 2011
If you really want to hear about it...
The Catcher in the Rye
by J.D. Salinger
Quick synopsis: A young man named Holden Caulfield gets kicked out of his school and searches for something--anything--that isn't phony or lousy, although almost everything he comes in contact with is just that.
This is the only book on my list that I once began. Many years ago, I went through a phase, a short phase, of wanting to read books like the ones I'm reading now. I started with The Catcher in the Rye. I didn't get very far. I think I stopped somewhere in the beginning, because then, I didn't have much tolerance for books that didn't grab me right away. And, truthfully, my tolerance level may have only gone up just a tad--but if it weren't for the commitment I made to myself, I probably would have closed this book before its end again.
But this is not the place to rant about how unentertained I was. I'm here to speculate why this book, THIS book, has become an American classic.
One of things I've thought about was its connection and relatability to teenagers. So many high schoolers read this book because, I'm sure, they feel the same way as Holden does. They have the same unexplainable angst, the same desires (or lack thereof), the same worry and fear of identity. I believe the ending is what has made it so timeless. If Holden hadn't changed (and some critics do argue that he didn't change and he was still just as "lousy" as he was in the beginning), then this book would have gone no where. But for two-hundred-some-odd pages, we're subjected to this whiney guy who is never in the mood to do anything, gets kicked out of school AGAIN, and seemingly has no direction, no care in his life whatsoever. Yet, as it ends with the beautiful image of him sitting in the pouring rain, watching his kid sister Phoebe, whom he truly adores, I can't help but think that that's what makes this book so great: that it goes beyond the depressive moods and the listlessness of Holden. It becomes something larger than him, which we never really get to experience until the end.
The stylistic choices of Salinger were spot on, and although the tone of the piece began to irritate me, I do feel like this is another reason this book has achieved such status. I'm not too familiar with contemporary American literature, especially literature published when Catcher was published, so I can't say that this style was "inventive" or "unique" (I hope to learn this, though, in my many years of studying literature), but I can say it seems to ring as innovative and ingenious. I can imagine being in the early Fifties and reading this book and seeing the slang and the cursing and the casual and conversational tone and being shocked that "lit-re-ture" would sound like this. And if you want to become a classic, I've learned, you've got to shock people.
I don't really have much more to say about the book.
I do, however, want to give a shout-out to my girl Kati Spayde, whose book I inherited when I bought it at a used-bookstore at Amazon.com. Kati had highlighted about 73% of the book. She even wrote things like, "New character!!" or "Why can't Holden enjoy the small things?" I found myself competing with this Kati Spayde, thinking, I'll show her--I'll show her what REAL annotation looks like. I wonder if her teacher would give me the same 86% that she received.
by J.D. Salinger
Quick synopsis: A young man named Holden Caulfield gets kicked out of his school and searches for something--anything--that isn't phony or lousy, although almost everything he comes in contact with is just that.
This is the only book on my list that I once began. Many years ago, I went through a phase, a short phase, of wanting to read books like the ones I'm reading now. I started with The Catcher in the Rye. I didn't get very far. I think I stopped somewhere in the beginning, because then, I didn't have much tolerance for books that didn't grab me right away. And, truthfully, my tolerance level may have only gone up just a tad--but if it weren't for the commitment I made to myself, I probably would have closed this book before its end again.
But this is not the place to rant about how unentertained I was. I'm here to speculate why this book, THIS book, has become an American classic.
One of things I've thought about was its connection and relatability to teenagers. So many high schoolers read this book because, I'm sure, they feel the same way as Holden does. They have the same unexplainable angst, the same desires (or lack thereof), the same worry and fear of identity. I believe the ending is what has made it so timeless. If Holden hadn't changed (and some critics do argue that he didn't change and he was still just as "lousy" as he was in the beginning), then this book would have gone no where. But for two-hundred-some-odd pages, we're subjected to this whiney guy who is never in the mood to do anything, gets kicked out of school AGAIN, and seemingly has no direction, no care in his life whatsoever. Yet, as it ends with the beautiful image of him sitting in the pouring rain, watching his kid sister Phoebe, whom he truly adores, I can't help but think that that's what makes this book so great: that it goes beyond the depressive moods and the listlessness of Holden. It becomes something larger than him, which we never really get to experience until the end.
The stylistic choices of Salinger were spot on, and although the tone of the piece began to irritate me, I do feel like this is another reason this book has achieved such status. I'm not too familiar with contemporary American literature, especially literature published when Catcher was published, so I can't say that this style was "inventive" or "unique" (I hope to learn this, though, in my many years of studying literature), but I can say it seems to ring as innovative and ingenious. I can imagine being in the early Fifties and reading this book and seeing the slang and the cursing and the casual and conversational tone and being shocked that "lit-re-ture" would sound like this. And if you want to become a classic, I've learned, you've got to shock people.
I don't really have much more to say about the book.
I do, however, want to give a shout-out to my girl Kati Spayde, whose book I inherited when I bought it at a used-bookstore at Amazon.com. Kati had highlighted about 73% of the book. She even wrote things like, "New character!!" or "Why can't Holden enjoy the small things?" I found myself competing with this Kati Spayde, thinking, I'll show her--I'll show her what REAL annotation looks like. I wonder if her teacher would give me the same 86% that she received.
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